Look around the room

Despite yourself you start to cry. Something you never would have done had you been a guy. But you were naked and alone and far more tears had been shed over lesser things.

Finally you pick your self up, whip the tears from you face and look around the room. Not much occupies it. There is the table in the center, still covered with a mixture of jucies. The closet is in the far corner, standing ominiously, something about it makes you afraid to look in just yet.

A counter top with a sink lines the back wall. The wall with the door contains two small windows with the shades drawn.